


We were always going to come to this

by damselfly



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, POV Third Person Limited: Jack, Relationship Negotiation, Second Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 08:52:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4215453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damselfly/pseuds/damselfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The inevitable happens (of course)—then what?</p><p>One night after a case Jack slips up and does what he has been trying not to do for months now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only halfway through the second season, so I don't know what reason, if any, is given for Jack's resisting the inevitable. But this will explore my idea of what he's thinking.

                                                           

 

Jack finished the last of his drink and put down his glass. “I am afraid I cannot stay late tonight, Miss Fisher, but I thank you for the hospitality, and the brandy. Excellent, as ever.”

“But Jack!” she protested, “We’ve barely even begun to go over the case! I was just about to explain how I figured out that Mrs. Jones was in on it all along; it really was quite clever, if I do say so myself.”

“I am sure it was, and you can tell me all about it in the morning. But now, I’m afraid I must be going, or else I might fall asleep right here in your parlor and scandalize poor Mr. Butler in the morning.” He held up a hand before she could tell him he was welcome to sleep over any time. He didn’t have it in him to answer her flirtations with seeming indifference, not tonight. But he knew just how to divert her. “That stakeout last night rather took it out of me, not to mention saving you from a murderous harridan with a meat cleaver.”

“ _Saving_ me? Really Jack, I do appreciate your enthusiasm, but I had the situation well in hand. Had you not burst in—” 

“I am sure you would have handled it beautifully. Except for letting it slip that you knew more than she had told you about the smuggling operation.” It was easy to continue their banter, even when he was so tired that everything seemed slightly soft and unreal. He could probably bicker amicably with Miss Fisher in his sleep.

The thought of sleep reminded him how much he really did need to get off the sofa. As he stood, Miss Fisher drew herself up as well and said, with an indignant pride only slightly ruined by the laughter in her eyes, “That was not a slip; that was deliberate. I needed to be sure of her involvement.”

Jack snorted. “Be honest, Miss Fisher, you talked yourself into a sticky situation.” He walked out into the hall to retrieve his hat and coat, saying over his shoulder, “One day that mouth of yours is going to get you into serious trouble, and what will you do then?”

He turned to see her leaning against the doorway to the parlor with that effortless elegance that came as naturally to her as breathing, or trouble. “Why, I will simply use it to get myself out again.” She smiled. “I have been told that I am very good with my mouth. And if that doesn’t work…” She began to describe her new pistol, but the echo of her words drowned out everything else, and Jack was unable to focus on anything but the crimson curves of her lips. _Miss Fisher using her mouth…_ His gut clenched. The hallway was suddenly warm, and he was acutely aware that the rest of the household was asleep, and all the reasons he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about those lips seemed very far away.

“Jack, are you alright?” He had taken a few steps toward her without even thinking about it, and now she was close enough to touch… his hand cupped her cheek, and his thumb brushed her lower lip.

Phryne’s lips parted in surprise, and then she smiled and turned her head just enough to catch his forefinger between her lips. Without looking away, she sucked gently.

Later, Jack would wince in embarrassment when he recalled how he moaned, but in the moment he was too far gone to even notice. He was overwhelmed by slick warmth and Phryne’s eyes and the flaring of desires tamped down for far too long. Now they leapt up and incinerated his frayed restraint.

One hand found her waist as the other slipped around to cradle her neck, he bent his head as she leaned into him, and he was dreaming about Café Replique again, but this was real and even better because it wasn’t just a kiss, he could feel all of her, those subtle curves wrapped in silk, pressed against him—

He was pressing Miss Fisher up against the wall of her entryway. Reality crashed over him, and Jack jerked away so quickly that she stumbled forward. Her hair was mussed, her lips thoroughly kissed, and she was so beautiful that his breath caught in his throat.

Phryne, being Phryne, found her balance almost immediately. She watched him back away with what he was terrified to recognize as concern. “Jack, wait, w—”

“This—this can’t—I can’t do this. I’m so sorry. Good night, Miss Fisher.”

He grabbed up his hat and coat, and fled.


	2. Chapter 2

                                                             

 

Even with a sleepless night spent preparing himself, he couldn’t quite meet those sharp dark eyes across his office. Jack turned and busied himself with some folders on his shelves.

“Morning, Miss Fisher. Have you come with a new case?”

“Not exactly, Inspector.” The door clicked shut. “I think perhaps we need to talk.”

“Must it be now? I’m quite busy.” This was apparently too cowardly even to be considered. She plowed on.

“Jack, you cannot pretend that last night did not happen.”

He said nothing. She sighed.

“I came to apologize.”

Papers cascaded from a file as he spun around. “What could you possibly have to apologize for?”

With a complicated swishing of skirts, Miss Fisher perched on the corner of his desk. “I am not an idiot," she said bluntly. "The past months have made it perfectly clear that you want me, and just as clear that you do not wish to act on that desire. I should have respected that, and not pushed you. I am sorry.”

He was still floundering for words when she carried on in her terrifyingly forthright way.

“I have wondered, of course, about why you refuse to let us enjoy something we both want. I even considered the possibility that my vanity had gotten the better of me, and you do not share my feelings, but even if all of my intuition had failed me, I think last night puts that possibility to rest.” Jack winced; even at her most serious, Phryne couldn’t resist teasing. “And so, I am at something of a loss as to why you are being so stubborn.” She raised a finger before he could speak. “You may tell me that it is none of my business, but at some point we will have to talk about this. We could keep on going as we have, maybe for years, but I am asking you now.”

His mouth was as dry as dust. “Miss Fisher—Phryne… it is I who should apologize. That… incident should never have happened.”

One eyebrow arched, waiting.

“You are right, as usual. I am,” he swallowed, “attracted to you. But you and I will never work.”

“And why is that?”

“You—your—” He took a deep breath and gathered himself. “Your accustomed habits, when it comes to these matters, are—” he faltered, uncomfortable.

“I see. You will tolerate working with a woman who takes lovers, but not sully yourself by sleeping with me.” Her voice was still level, but bitterness tightened the corners of her eyes.

“No! No, of course not. I respect you deeply. It is simply that we are too different in this regard.” There was still hurt in her eyes, so he plunged on into truths he had sworn to leave unspoken. “I promised you once that I would never ask you to change for me, and I won’t. I know that you will not be tied down. If we were to… in the end, I would disappoint you, Phryne. When you tired of me and were ready to go back to how we have been, I would not be able to do it. I might try, but I know my limitations, and I am not resilient enough to spring back from that. I would no longer be able to be your partner, and I will not give up our partnership.” His voice dropped so low that she could barely hear him. “I have already failed to be what one woman needed; I will not do the same to you.”

There was a long silence. Jack fought the urge to turn back to his folders, and settled instead for staring at the wall. Finally, Phryne spoke.

“And if I won’t tire of you?”

He shook his head. “Please, don’t do this. It’s not fair to either of us.”

“But you don’t understand.” She leaned forward, until her couldn’t avoid meeting her gaze. “This is not a hypothetical, this is a fact you seem, somehow, to have missed. I will never tire of you, Jack Robinson, in whatever capacity. As a fellow detective, friend, lover—I’m afraid you’re stuck with me, and I want as much of you as you are willing to share.” She paused, then grinned. “It would not be an especially conventional arrangement, of course. I will never marry, and I can’t say I will stop wanting other men--although that is a conversation for another time. But the point is that I will not get bored and throw you aside. Frankly, if all I wanted was another fling, I would have seduced you or moved on months ago.”

Jack gripped the back of his chair as though that would brace him against the mix of shock, hope, and disbelief that buffeted him. Miss Fisher had, yet again, left him speechless.

For all the world as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, she slipped off his desk and said briskly, “Well, if you don’t have any interesting cases for me, I should be going. Dot and I are going out to pick up school supplies for Jane.”

She paused in the doorway. “Whatever you decide, remember that we are still partners." And then she was gone.

Jack didn't move a muscle until Hugh ducked in to tell him something half an hour later. 


	3. Chapter 3

                                                              

 

It was a few days before they saw each other again, over a dead body spreadeagled on a hotel room floor. Jack looked up, met her eyes for a long moment, and then looked back at his notebook. Too late, he realized she might think he was angry with her--of course she would, he'd just glared at her. Should he smile? No, he'd look like a fool. He wasn't one of her charmers, men who knew how to--

A quiet "Hullo, Jack" interrupted his whirling thoughts. She had come over to stand by his side and inspect the scene. "One of Dot's friends is a maid here, and she said there'd been a murder. A tourist coming back from a late night on the town, I'd say."

With enormous relief, he followed her lead. "Morning, Miss Fisher. Yes, his name was Anthony Morton, here on a business trip from Sydney. The concierge saw him come in around midnight, the maid found him in the morning."

The manager came in then. When he had told them what he knew and bustled off again, Jack said, "I think we should speak to the maid who found the body."

"That would be Lizzie, Dot's friend."

"Do you know where we could find her?"

"In my kitchen, I imagine. She's a good head on her shoulders and doesn't seem too shaken up, but if she's as sensible as I think she'll still there, putting away a goodly number of Mr. Butler's shortbread cookies."

"Well then, lead the way."

 

After they had spoken to Lizzie, who did indeed know which side her shortbread was buttered on and had settled in to be cosseted by Dot and Mr. Butler, they stepped out into the hall. Jack quickly ran out of things to say about the case and what he would do next, but it didn't right to run out on her without saying anything. Especially in this hallway... he jerked his thoughts away and cleared his throat, before realizing that he still didn't have the slightest clue what to say.

Miss Fisher was watching him, her expression open and patient. He steadied. She knew him; she wasn't expecting flowery speeches. "I'm glad you joined this case."

She gave him a brilliant smile, and he took heart. That hadn't been so hard. "Yes, I think together we'll have it closed before dinner tomorrow. We make an excellent team, Inspector."

He nodded. "Indeed we do, Miss Fisher."

They both smiled as each other--he tentatively, she with fond amusement.

"Was there anything else, Jack?" she prompted after several seconds.

He took a deep breath. "I have been thinking about what you said, in my office." 

She nodded, and waited. He was filled a rush of affection for this wonderful woman, who had endless opinions and could talk him in circles easily, but also knew when to listen without judgement. She was never afraid to speak her mind; she would not have said those things unless she meant them. She was honest, and kind, and brave, and so unapologetically herself that it was impossible not to admire her. She made him want to be better. And he was better, already, for knowing her.

"If you still want--I want it, too. I want to try."

She stepped closer, until they were just inches apart. "Well, in that case, I think it's time that we gave this a proper try." Her voice was low and husky, and Jack knew without a doubt that it wasn't just flirtatious artifice. Miss Fisher wanted him, too. That certainty beat in his chest and guided him forward as he gathered her in his arms and covered her lips with his.

She kissed him back gently at first, at though afraid he might take fright and run away, but after a few seconds the kiss deepened. And then for Jack there was nothing but this, but kissing Miss Fisher. It was the third time and the first time and the thousandth time--he had dreamed of this (or forced himself not to) every day, it seemed, since meeting her, and now it was happening.

 

At last she pulled back, just an inch, so their noses were still almost touching. Her eyes were black, her breathing slow and deep. 

Jack whispered, "Was that proper enough for you, Miss Fisher?"

This time her smile was slow and wicked. "Much too much so, but I am confident we can work on that."

He refused to think about what  _that_ could mean in her hallway in the middle of the afternoon. And the middle of a shift, too.

"I should go; I am still on duty, and I need to go follow up on those leads Lizzie gave us." 

She nodded. "Of course." As he went to the door, she added, "I maintain that you'll find that the guest across the hall was affiliated with his brother's company."

"And I still say that his wife's lover has a far stronger motive. But you may be right."

"Pshaw. I'll expect you back here in the morning to inform me it was the brother. If I'm right, you will owe me... yes, a candlelit dinner."

"And if you're wrong? What do I get then?"

"In that highly unlikely event, I think... a candlelit dinner."

He nodded. "Well then, I look forward to tomorrow."

 

As it happened, the deceased's wife had been sleeping with his brother. They declared it a joint victory.


	4. Chapter 4

                                                         

 

The candles had burned low, and Phryne glowed in the soft, flickering light. He had known that she would be stunning by candlelight, known that once he had seen her this way he would never be able to forget it. What he hadn't known was how right it would feel. He had seen her in so many lights. They had shared their brightest times and their darkest. It seemed natural that they would share this, too.

She sipped the last of her champagne and set the flute aside. "It's getting late." She studied his face, and then continued, "You once told me it was too much of a risk for you to set foot in my bedroom. Have you reconsidered?" Her tone was light, but he was coming to understand her, perhaps better than anyone else, and he heard the seriousness that underlay it. 

He cleared his throat. "I have." 

"So you aren't afraid?"

"My dear Miss Fisher, " Jack said with straight-faced dignity, "Give me some credit." He stood, and offered her his arm. "I would be a fool not to be afraid."

She laughed. "Very wise, Inspector. I have had a _long_ time to consider what I want to do with you."

"And?" The leap in his pulse was indeed spiked with fear--but it was twined with anticipation, and beneath that was a bone-deep sense of safety. Being with her was, in the ways that really counted, the surest bet he'd ever made.

"Oh yes. I plan to corrupt you thoroughly." They reached her door.

"I will have you know," Jack said hoarsely but evenly, "That I am an officer of the law. I am sure you'll find that that's illegal."

"Hmm, a fair point. You may be duty-bound to arrest me later."

 

Jack woke up to a bed full of sunlight, rumpled sheets, and Phryne. When she rolled over and saw him, her unguarded smile took his breath away. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt that he might brim over with what he could only describe as joy.

Later that morning, she showed him exactly how good she was with her mouth. Jack was surprised it didn't kill him.

But then, he had come to accept long ago that Phryne Fisher would be death of him, one way or another. He had only recently realized that she'd be the life of him, too.

 


End file.
